It would give my wounded heart hope.
“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? If you’re miserable here, then, no, things aren’t great.”
“I’m not miserable. I just … you’re never around!”
He throws his hands in the air. “You’re the one who told me I should take this job, remember?”
“Because you wanted it! I didn’t want you to want it!” I’m amazed we haven’t corralled a crowd, the way we’re yelling at each other. That seems to be our thing—fighting in parking lots. Thankfully, no one seems to be around to witness this one.
“You’re right, I did want it. I wasn’t gonna take it because I knew it would mean long hours, but then you told me to do what would make me happy, that you wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t. So, I took it. And what do you want me to say, except that I love it? I’m doin’ something important, and I’m good at it.”
“And I’m glad that you’re doing something you love. I really am, Jonah. But where does that leave me?”
He paces in a tight circle, as if to collect his thoughts before coming to a stop in front of me again, his arms folded. “I don’t know, because you haven’t even given Alaska a chance yet.”
My jaw drops. “How can you say that! Look at me, Jonah! I’m riding around on an ATV, and talking to stupid goats and rescuing dogs from bear traps and going to chili cook-offs, and trying to make our house feel like a real home instead of some shack in the woods. I’m growing enough vegetables in our backyard for a family of fifty to survive the entire winter. I’ve learned how to cook—”
“You’re constantly looking for reasons why Alaska is horrible, you keep talking about Toronto like that’s still your home and this is only temporary, you’re so focused on not fitting in here that you just tried to sell me on dating another woman,” he fires back, his tone full of anger and frustration. “You haven’t made a single decision about what you might want to do with your life, except to make it clear you don’t want a family yet, which is fine with me.” He throws his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m not pressuring you about that. But I thought you were happy! I thought you were making it work! And then this morning, all of a sudden, you’re telling me you hate it here, and now I’m beginning to wonder if you ever planned on even liking it, or if you came here already counting on leaving!”
My jaw drops. “That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? ’Cause I don’t know anymore.” He smooths his hands over his face. “I picked up my life and moved away from what I knew, too. It might not be the same, but it’s still a change. Agnes, Mabel … they’re like my family, and they’re all the way on the other side of the state. I barely talk to them. And, while this might not be the ideal spot for you, you’re either in all the way or you’re not in it at all. And if you’re not even willing to try to build a real life for yourself here with me, then …” His words trail.
And my stomach plummets. “Then what?” I manage to get out in a strangled voice.
He swallows and a pained look fills his eyes. “Look, I know I said we’d find somewhere else if Alaska doesn’t work, but when I said that, I assumed you’d at least try here first.”
“I am trying!”
He shakes his head. “No, Calla, I think you came here wanting to try, but you’re so hung up on not being your mother that you can’t seem to figure out a way to be yourself.”
Boisterous voices fill the air as a group of five pours out the door from the Ale House.
Jonah sighs, lowering his voice. “As far as Marie goes, you either don’t trust me—”
“I do! I swear, I do, Jonah. It’s her I don’t trust.”
“She hasn’t done anything wrong, Calla. You’re being insecure, and I have no fucking idea why. Haven’t I always been crystal clear about my feelings for you?”
“That’s not what this is about—”
“You embarrassed her tonight, and you did it intentionally.”
A flicker of guilt stirs deep inside, somewhere beneath my jealousy.
“I thought you were better than that.” He turns and heads toward my Jeep without waiting for me, his shoulders sagging as if weighed down by a terrible burden.
I trail behind, wiping away tears even as fresh ones trickle, my resentment with Jonah over his claim that I haven’t tried to make this work swelling with each step. What will convince him otherwise? What will I have to do?
Learn to fly a plane?
Hunt and cook my own kill?
Have his babies?
No, thank you.
Not a chance in hell.
Not yet.
Or maybe I’ll never be able to convince him that I tried. Maybe that’ll be his excuse no matter what, when this all falls apart and he refuses to leave Alaska. This is beginning to feel like the fine print in our relationship contract that I somehow missed before I signed on.
We’re almost at the Jeep when Jonah stops abruptly. “So, that day when me and Marie were talking in the hangar … You heard everything?” I see it in his eyes—he’s playing back the conversation, trying to pick through what all was said. How much does he remember of it?
Me? I remember it, almost word for word.
Not trusting my voice, I meet his gaze and nod.
Yes, I know about the ring—I’ve even seen it.
Yes, I know you were going to propose that day at the safety cabin.
Yes, I’m aware that it’s been six weeks since then and you haven’t.
A curse slips from Jonah’s lips. “I don’t know what to tell you except …” He peers out at the trees, lost in a moment’s thought. “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.”
“Yeah, I agree.” And, after today, I have to wonder if we ever will be.
Wiping my cheeks and pressing my lips together, I ready a fake smile for Diana as we climb into the Jeep.
She’s curled up in the backseat, snoring softly.
* * *
“She’s heavier than she looks.” Jonah eases down our narrow hallway with an unconscious Diana cradled in his arms, her long blonde tendrils dangling like a thick curtain halfway to the floor. I tried waking her when we pulled up to our house only minutes after leaving the Ale House, but she didn’t stir.
“Don’t tell her that,” I warn, yanking the bed linens down.
He sets her down gently and then backs away. I move in to slip off her boots and socks—she can’t sleep with socks on because they make her feet sweaty—before drawing her blanket over her.
Jonah is silent as he watches me unfasten her earrings and slide her bracelet off her limp wrist—jewelry is another irritant for her—and set them in the porcelain dish I bought especially for this purpose. I sense him wanting to say something, but for once, he keeps his thoughts to himself.
I get to her engagement ring and pause on it for a long moment.
Have she and Aaron ever had a fight that left her feeling this bleak?
“You want me to grab her a glass of water?” Jonah asks, his voice grating in the quiet house.
“No, thanks. I’ll get it.” I’m emotionally and physically exhausted and I want to be alone to try to make sense of my muddled thoughts.
“Calla, I …” His words drift. “I’ll be up soon. Get some sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”
Can’t wait.
I take my time readying for bed, and when I slip downstairs to fetch water for both Diana and myself, I spy Jonah standing on the porch, his phone pressed to his ear. Who could he be talking to at this hour?
Marie, likely.
My irritation flares. Is he divulging more about the weakest points of our relationship, after we literally just finished fighting about him doing this? Is this the way it’ll always be? We’ll have problems and he’ll run off to talk about them with her instead of trying to work them out with me first?
This is beginning to feel like a test.
One we might not pass.
I can’t help but think …
Maybe it’s kism
et that a pregnancy scare hijacked Jonah’s plans for that day, and that our plane almost crashed, forcing his introduction to Sam.
Maybe it’s a blessing that I overheard his conversation with Marie about jobs he was turning down.
And maybe it is for the best that I pushed him to accept work he would end up loving.
Because otherwise, where would we be right now? I’d be consumed with planning for a wedding and helping Jonah build The Yeti. Jonah would be faithfully sticking close by and flying, but not loving what he was doing.
And then what?
How long before he grew restless doing supply runs and playing tourist guide, began resenting me for keeping him pinned down by a promise, and confessed his unhappiness? Of course, I’d tell him to do what he loves, and he’d seek out a similar job as the one he has with Sam. The Yeti would fall by the wayside in summer months without its pilot, and I’d be left wondering what to do with myself during the long days. We’d end up exactly back here down the road, only with years and marriage vows between us.
So maybe that all this is happening now is for the best.
On my way back upstairs, I pass the curio cabinet that arrived a few weeks ago. Only one piece sits inside at the moment—Ethel’s ivory sculpture. It catches my eye and I stall there a long moment, studying it.
Perhaps Ethel’s tale of the raven and his goose wife isn’t inaccurate after all.
I manage to keep my composure until I’m tucked beneath our bedcovers, alone. And then I muffle my sobs with my pillow, feeling for the first time since last summer that my relationship with Jonah is surviving on borrowed time.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Calla.”
“Hmm?” I crack my eyelids.
Jonah looms over me with a mug in his hand. “Figured you might need this.” He sets it on my nightstand. The rattle of a pill bottle sounds as he slips it from his pocket and sets it next to my coffee.
Just enough daylight creeps in from the hallway for me to note the frothy milk. “Did you make me a latte?”
“I owed you one from yesterday, remember? That machine isn’t as complicated as I thought it would be.” There’s no hint of anger or resentment in his voice. If anything, I’d say it’s strangely docile.
“Thank you.” I check the clock. It’s after nine. “Is Diana awake?”
“She’s been up since five.” Jonah moves to draw the curtains, upsetting the shadows with sunshine. The forecast called for another warm day with no promise of rain anytime soon, in the driest, warmest June on record for this area. “Muriel’s here. She took her out to the garden.”
“I should get up, then.” And rescue her. I groan and heave myself out of bed, wandering to the bathroom to relief myself and brush my teeth, dismayed by the puffy, sore eyes that stare back at me in the mirror—physical evidence of the disastrous end to my birthday. I’m not sure I can even force a smile at this point.
I climb into the shower, hoping that ten minutes immersed beneath a stream of hot water will help clear my head and my heavy heart. I was far drunker than I realized. At least that hopeless despair I carried to sleep has faded with the alcohol. But it’s been replaced with an odd emptiness, a melancholy.
Regret.
And lingering confusion.
All the things we said to each other last night …
I cringe. What would possess me to become so wrapped up in jealousy over Marie? In the light of a new day, I feel like an idiot. It wasn’t about her at all. Granted, I still don’t trust her intentions, but I allowed it to drive a wedge between Jonah and me when we have much bigger, more pressing issues to face.
Jonah thinks I haven’t tried here?
Could he have a point? Did you come here seeing Alaska as only temporary?
I hear Simon’s British lilt in my mind as readily as if the phone were pressed to my ear. Years with my stepfather have taught me to try to weigh all sides and opinions—even those I don’t agree with—but I’m struggling. Maybe because I now have this niggling, gnawing feeling in my gut. Maybe because it would mean I’ve fallen into the same trap my mother did all those years ago, of not trying with my father when she claimed that she had.
How many times have I told myself—and my mother, and Simon, and Diana, and even Agnes—that I’m willing to try Alaska because Jonah said he was willing to leave?
My stomach clenches with that mental count.
Have I been clinging too tightly to that all these months? From the very beginning?
And is he right? Have I been spending all this time focused too much on everything Trapper’s Crossing and this house and my time in Alaska is not, instead of everything that it is?
I thought I was embracing it, making the best of my less than ideal situation, but maybe I’ve been going about it the wrong way. What I do know is that our relationship slid down a steep, muddy slope yesterday. How do we climb back to the top? Is there even a way back up for us from this?
Panic begins to swirl. Maybe the docility that greeted me this morning wasn’t docility at all, but resignation. Has Jonah recognized something I’m not willing to admit yet?
Has it become not a matter of finding a way back up but a way out for him?
What I feel for Jonah, I’ve never felt a fraction of for anyone ever, and the idea that this could be the beginning of the end—that I might lose Jonah over this—has me slamming my hand on the tap and scrambling to dry off, nausea churning my stomach.
I barrel out of the bathroom with a towel hastily wrapped, intent on dressing quickly and finding Jonah wherever he is downstairs, to fix this mess I’ve made of us.
But he hasn’t left our bedroom. He’s perched on the edge of the bed, his focus on his clasped hands in front of him.
I can’t get the words out fast enough. “I’m so sorry, Jonah. I’m such an asshole.” My voice is unsteady. “Please tell me you’re not giving up on me yet.”
He offers me a small smile that momentarily distracts me from the dark circles under his eyes. It doesn’t appear like he had a good night’s sleep, either. “We’re both assholes. How about that?” He reaches out, beckoning for me to come.
I rush toward him, but hesitate when I get there—part of me wants to throw myself at him, the other part is terrified that he’ll hold me at arm’s length, that it’s too late, that the slope we fell down yesterday was too steep, the climb up too slippery.
That he’s already decided he doesn’t want to even attempt it.
But then he clasps my thighs with warm hands and his thumbs stroke my skin, offering me hope. “Using work as my excuse to take off yesterday morning was a dumb move. I just didn’t think you’d react like that. But I should have seen it coming.” His eyes shine with sincerity. “I’m sorry.”
I swallow the growing lump in my throat. “I overreacted—”
“No, you didn’t.” He steers my body in between his parted legs, pulls me down to sit on one thigh. I use the opportunity to curl my arms around his shoulders and slide in a touch closer. “You reacted. To something you’ve obviously been sitting on and not saying anything about for a while.” He presses his forehead against my collarbone. Drops of water linger on my skin.
“I don’t want to stop you from doing it, Jonah,” I whisper. With tentative fingertips, I stroke his bearded jaw. “I can see how much you love working with Sam. I mean, you’ve been geeking out with textbooks at night.”
He chuckles. “It’s been a while since I’ve learned something totally new. I actually like it.”
“I just don’t know what I’m doing here, besides being with you. And don’t get me wrong, I love being with you, and I love it when you come home at night, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with, but I feel like …” I struggle to find the right words to articulate this swirl inside me. “I don’t know who I am here. At least with The Yeti, we were starting that together—”
“We still have it, Calla.”
“I know, but it’s different now. You’re off,
doing your own thing. It’s kind of like your backup now. It doesn’t feel like ours anymore.”
Jonah nods slowly. “Fair enough.”
“And I don’t think I’m made for spending so much time alone. I’m not blaming you for that,” I add quickly. “But I’m beginning to think the reason I stayed at home with my mom and Simon all those years had less to do with high rent prices and more about me just liking being around my family.” I had the best of both worlds—freedom and privacy, but I never felt alone. I thrive on being on the go and being around people. “I guess I’m more like my mother that way than I care to admit.” We both live for schedules packed with appointments to make, social outings to keep, and tasks to complete. “It’s a big adjustment for me.”
I hesitate. “And, I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m beginning to feel like maybe I’m losing a part of who I am?” I remember my mother saying that once—that, isolated in the tiny, mossy-green house in the tundra in the dead of winter, thousands of miles from everything and everyone she knew, she began to wonder, to fear, who she would become in five, ten, twenty years if she stayed.
What choices she would begin to regret.
Is this what she meant?
Jonah studies my features. “Calla, I don’t know how to fix that for you. If I could, I would. But you need to stop doin’ things because you think I want you to, or because Muriel tells you to. I don’t give a shit if you know how to cook. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate not living off frozen dinners, but it’s not why I fell in love with you. If you burn everything from now until the day I die, I’ll still love you.”
Warmth fills my chest, hearing those words. “What if I burn down this house?” I ask tentatively, my lips curling into a smile for the first time today.
He gives me a flat look but it softens immediately, as his gentle hand tucks a strand of wet hair behind my ear. “Where’s the woman who rolled into Wild, knowing nothin’ about charter plane companies or Alaska, and convinced me, the stubborn ass, that Wild was doing it all wrong?”
“It was just a website.” My dad sold the company before we could ever hope to turn the lagging parts of the business around.
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